Lovin in my baby’s eye

I know you’re walking through my soul right now, but I’ve got other things to do. And don’t go thinking lighting candles means I’m making some special occasion. I always light my 78 dollar Diptyque’s candles when I’m doing housework, it just so happens that all they had left at the store were ‘Bulgarian Roses.’

From my speakers play Glen Gould and no, the minor cords do not make me think of you. I am busy. I am getting on with my life because other people actually want me around like these mirrors for instance. Grab the paper towels, snatch the windex from below, Look out! As I eeeeeaaaaase on over to the table-Two old ticket stubs from that Tori Amos concert-Oh my god! you looked so cute with your hair layered all antique style. Dirty! Filthy, dirty table needs cleaning and I’m cleaning it.

Getting over you is the easy. It makes me want to smile. Throw my head back and laugh… ha! ha! and now your journal on the gas stove. No, no, no, It’s not that I’m angry. Please don’t think that. It’s that there’s no room. Very small apartment. I simply must find a better place for your black and white family photos (inconsiderate of you to move out without taking them {yes I know you said you’d be back to pick up the remaining items} but it is Spring and Spring means clean and clean means fire and burn means die and) IIIIIIIIIIIIII’llllllllllllllllll just open a window.

Now where was I..? Ah, yes. You.

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